Chapter 2: The Wedding Day and the Tragic End
The day of the wedding dawned, a day of both splendor and dread for Princess Elara. The palace was a riot of color, adorned with silks, flowers, and jewels. Music filled the air, a joyous cacophony that did little to soothe Elara's racing heart.
The ceremony was a grand affair, a spectacle witnessed by dignitaries from across the land. Elara, resplendent in a gown of spun moonlight, felt like a caged bird, her every move watched, her every expression scrutinized. She bowed her head before her father, the Emperor, his gaze a mixture of pride and apprehension. Then, she turned to face Kaelen, his face a mask of impassivity.
As they exchanged vows, Elara felt a chilling dread. The words, meant to signify a joyous union, sounded like a death knell. Kaelen's voice was a low, silken drawl, devoid of emotion. His gaze, when it finally met hers, was like a glacier, cold and unforgiving.
The feast that followed was a blur. Elara, feeling like a prisoner in her own body, ate little, her appetite completely gone. She longed to escape, to vanish into the shadows, to disappear from this suffocating display of wealth and power.
Finally, the moment of truth arrived. Elara was led to the bridal chamber, a room of exquisite beauty, draped in silks and adorned with fragrant flowers. She sat on the edge of the bed, her heart pounding like a drum.
The door creaked open, and Kaelen entered, his figure silhouetted against the fading light. He was alone. Elara, momentarily relieved, prepared herself for the inevitable awkward silence, the icy indifference that was his trademark.
But instead of approaching her, Kaelen gestured to a young woman standing behind him. The woman, her face pale and drawn, held a small, silver cup.
"Drink," Kaelen commanded, his voice a chilling whisper.
Elara, confused, stared at the cup. "Drink what?"
"The wine, Princess," the woman replied, her voice trembling. "It is a tradition, a blessing for the newlyweds."
Elara, sensing something amiss, hesitated.
Kaelen's lips curled into a chilling smile. "It is merely wine, Princess. A toast to your happiness."
Elara, however, refused to drink blindly. "What is in it?" she asked, her voice wary.
Kaelen's smile vanished, replaced by a look of annoyance. "It is customary, Princess. Do not defy tradition."
Elara, feeling a surge of defiance, refused to drink.
Kaelen's eyes narrowed. "Princess," he warned, his voice low and dangerous, "do not defy me."
Elara, despite the fear that gripped her, stood her ground. "I will not drink without knowing what it is," she repeated, her voice firm.
Kaelen, faced with her unexpected defiance, felt a surge of unexpected interest. This was not the spoiled, capricious princess he had expected.
He turned to the woman, his gaze icy. "Leave us," he commanded, his voice low and dangerous.
The woman, visibly shaken, bowed her head and quickly retreated from the room.
Kaelen turned back to Elara, a curious glint in his eyes. "You are… intriguing, Princess," he murmured, his voice low. "I am beginning to believe this marriage might be more interesting than I anticipated."
Kaelen then gestured towards the cup, a chilling smile returning to his lips. "Now, drink."
Elara, sensing the danger, knew she had no choice. With a trembling hand, she raised the cup to her lips and drank.
The poison, swift and merciless, began to take effect. Elara felt a searing pain pierce her chest, her vision blurring. She slumped against the silken cushions, her life slipping away.
Kaelen, watching Elara collapse, felt a surge of… something. It wasn't satisfaction, exactly, but perhaps a flicker of unease. He had expected… something.
He turned to the woman, his gaze icy. "Dispose of it," he commanded, gesturing towards a small, ornate box on a side table. The woman, her face pale, nodded silently, quickly collecting the empty cup and disappearing from the room.
Kaelen, his expression unreadable, remained in the room for a few moments longer, observing Elara's lifeless form. Then, with a curt nod, he turned and left the chamber, the silence broken only by the soft sobs that escaped the woman as she cleaned up the aftermath.